


Dance Until the Dark of Dawn

by SingSwan_SpringSwan



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin is a good big brother, BAMF Anakin Skywalker, BAMF CT-7567 | Rex, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Gen, Guns Blazing, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, No Beta We Die Like Clones, Protective CT-7567 | Rex, Sexual Harrassment, Slave angst, ahsoka gets kidnapped/enslaved because I’m mean, ahsoka tano can dance, anakin doesn’t like being called master, but her bois are coming to get her, implied sexual abuse/trafficking, rex and anakin to the rescue, rex contemplates slavery, slave trade in the outer rim, soft fluff at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28824579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingSwan_SpringSwan/pseuds/SingSwan_SpringSwan
Summary: The 501st is planet-side in the Outer Rim when Ahsoka goes missing. Anakin and Rex are PRETTY sure they can guess what’s happened to her (Jedi sell for SO MUCH on the trade), and it’s up to them to get their Commander back. Finding her won’t be easy, and retrieving her from powerful people will be that much harder. But they’re both pissed, and they’re both ready to tear the planet down bare-handed, so it really shouldn’t be much of a problem.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker, CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, CT-7567 | Rex/Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 19
Kudos: 125





	1. Lost, Broken, Disturbed

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are adored! Cherished! Treasured! Thank you so much for reading!

General Skywalker noticed about the same time as Rex. They actually ran into each other, both hurrying to deliver the news. The irksome, urgent news.

Rex barreled around the corner, crashing into the general’s tall frame. Skywalker’s force-anticipation powers or whatever were no use against what mild panic both men manifested in close to all-out sprints. They were simply moving too fast.

At any other time, Rex might have apologized for knocking his commanding officer down so gracelessly. If he had any other commanding officer, he supposed he might have felt pure obligation regardless of the scenario. But this was Skywalker, and the situation was pretty dire. 

There was no time to dish out apologies or otherwise; since efficiency was a factor, it was best to get straight to the point.

“I thought she was with you!” The two men yelled in perfect sync. 

Rex was the first to recover. Instinct, and training and all that. He shot to his feet.

“How long has it been?” Skywalker demanded as he yanked himself upright. What would the Order say about those emotions so clearly written on his face? This was the most disturbed Rex had seen the general in all the time they’d known each other.

“Since the report this morning, Sir.” He answered gruffly. That had been almost thirteen hours ago. “Haven’t seen her since.”

“Oh Force,” Skywalker breathed. He tore his hands through his already-disheveled hair. 

There was a pregnant pause of silence before the general whirled around with a savage cry and kicked the closest object, sending garbage flying down the street while the bin clanged against the pavement.

“She’s giving me gray hairs!” He shouted. “Force, I’m in my twenties, but I’ll be lucky to reach fifty if she keeps at it like this!”

Rex had been worried before, but now he was starting to feel really concerned. He wasn’t a Jedi. He hadn’t been raised in their ways, much less thoroughly educated in them. He wasn’t sure how big of a deal this was supposed to be.

General Skywalker and Commander Tano shared some kind of bond through the Force; he knew that much. Being Master and Padawan as they were, they needed to be able to sense one another. Their energies were tied together. Or something like that… Rex didn’t really know all the intricacies.

He also hadn’t known that losing the bond would make General Skywalker this violent.

Well, the bond hadn’t exactly been lost. That wasn’t what Skywalker said. `Disturbed`, was the word he had used, if Rex remembered correctly.

“Don’t worry, Sir, we’ll find her.” He tried to reassure.

The general visibly wrestled with his emotions. “I should have sensed something was wrong.” He groaned. “This is my fault.”

“Sir—”

“Have you checked in with any of the lieutenants?”

“Yes Sir! No one has had any contact with her since this morning. She must still be in the city.”

Skywalker clenched his jaw.

They had already been on this kriffing planet for six days. Nothing of note had happened until now. It was supposed to be a standard supply run, standard intel mining. Nothing exciting at all. Was that why Ahsoka wandered off? Was she bored?

No, she was reckless. Not stupid. She knew better than to tangle in a spaceport alone—Jedi though she was—without an escort, in the Outer Rim, no less. And even in her boredom, she couldn’t have severed the bond unintentionally, right? Besides, Skywalker had described the interference. It wasn’t from her doing. Something had happened.

Rex had silently been hoping it was nothing his Commander couldn’t handle. Now, he was getting worried.  _ Really _ worried. The general had a tendency to be expressive, but rarely was he actually this… afraid.

Kriff.

After a few more moments of strained silence, Skywalker finally seemed to get a hold of himself. His lips were still painfully pinched, and his eyes were wider than they should have been, but he looked more or less alright.

“Okay Rex, you got it.” His voice had a subtle tremor, and it was about one octave too deep, but he sounded more or less alright.

“Get a squadron out to sweep the fifth sector. I doubt she’s still there, but it’s where you said they’d last seen her, yeah?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Okay. Okay, I… I’m gonna go meditate again. I need to be sure…” He swallowed, then blinked for a long time. “Meet me at the pad in an hour. Let me know what they find.”

“Yes Sir, I’m on it.” 

Rex threw in a sloppy salute, since he hadn’t apologized, but they both split off running again so it was hard to tell if Skywalker cared about the informality at all.

He did have more pressing concerns, at the moment.

Blast, the general was right. That kriffing togruta would never let them see retirement.

Fifteen counts went by. Twenty-five. Thirty. Thirty-three. Rex had ordered the squadron out. Every quarter he asked for results, the answer was the same.

_ Nothing, Sir. Nothing. Nothing nothing nothing. _

_ Keep looking. _ He told them.  _ Just keep looking _ .

But as well as the men were doing their jobs, and no matter how often Rex demanded a report, their progress remained unfruitful, and the captain became increasingly unsettled. And not just unsettled, unnerved as well. Distressed. Like he was losing control. Which wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Soon, the hour was up, and Rex had nothing to show for it. He didn’t want to admit to panic, but he was certainly experiencing a decent level of it.

Commander Tano had never behaved this way before. She _knew_ the uproar these kinds of actions could spark, and she was a thoughtful enough person to thereby avoid them at all costs. Whatever her code mandated, everyone in the 501st knew how fond she and Skywalker were of each other. She would never intentionally put him through this kind of stress—much less create unnecessary work for the men—without a good cause (`good cause` usually entailed the latest squabble between the Commander and her teacher, but Rex had _just seen_ _them_ bickering the other day, acting like sure siblings. Entirely resemblant of the interaction between him and his brothers. There had been no indication of recent strain in their relationship. They’d been on great terms).

So as Rex waited for the squadron to give their final update, and he continued to amass the reasons for this scenario being completely and totally  _ wrong _ , his worry mounted. He’d nearly worn a rut on the pad by the time the general made their rendezvous.

Rex snapped to attention immediately. Normally, he wouldn’t have. This was Skywalker, after all, and Rex was respectful enough not to make the general uncomfortable—but he was too high strung in the moment to ignore his conditioning.

“Sir,” He started shortly. Even his voice sounded strained. “The squadron has not collected any information on the Commander’s whereabouts. We’ll keep searching, Sir.”

Skywalker moved towards the Clone Captain with purpose in his long stride, but his gaze remained distracted, as if he’d heard Rex without really listening.

“Banthacrap.” He sighed darkly. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Rex could feel his own body buzzing. The general swore all the time; it didn’t mean anything. But… Rex was on the verge of abusing his own bin—should he find one—and Skywalker’s thin composure was not helping matters. Why was Rex such a nervous wreck? This wasn’t like him. He was a captain, for kriff’s sake! Was it really warranted to be so freaked over his commanding officer? Even if that officer was a witty, beautiful, feisty, talented, compassionate, excitable, funny, brave, and fearless young woman? Togruta. Whom he was not attracted to. In the slightest.

No, he was definitely worried because she was probably in trouble, and her absence would wreak real havoc on the entire 501st in due time. He was worried because her absence meant their inability as a company and unit to function at maximum capacity. Skywalker was a good leader, but he could be distracted by his own concern. And he didn’t think as strategically as the Commander. 

So obviously, Rex was worried about Commander Tano because he was worried about the functioning status of the fleet, and his men. Not for any other reason.

(She was technically of age at this point, but that also had nothing to do with it.)

For a moment, the general simply stared out over the city. Deep lines carved shadows into his face, thanks to the oddly angled light of the setting sun, and the added scowl of intense concentration. The effects made him look like the fifty-year-old he hoped one day to be.

“General Skywalker,” Rex cleared his throat. He’d spoken out of turn, but the silence was making his bucket ring. “I could really use some good news, Sir.” Which was very unfortunately true. He was about to go crazy. And he prefered not to go crazy, if it could be helped in any way.

The general worked his jaw and turned sharply from the view, meeting Rex’s gaze as well as possible through the tinted visor. His self control had improved in the hour they’d conducted their separate investigations, and his face was just a little hard to read.

Rex felt his stomach turn. He steeled himself. 

“Well, she’s not dead.” Skywalker muttered.

That… that was good news, Rex supposed, though neither the general’s tone, nor the bleak nature of the words was promising at all.

“Sir?”

Skywalker’s shoulders were tight, tense. He looked away again and clasped his hands behind his back, desperately attempting to remain put-together—which was unfortunately an exact mirror of Rex’s current mood, and posture as well.

“While I was meditating, I was able to reconnect more clearly with her force signature.” The general elaborated. “The fact that she has one means she’s still alive.” He huffed. “I know that’s not exactly reassuring, but I think I figured out why I couldn’t feel her before.”

Rex squeezed his fingers. Why was the general telling him this? Half the words he used went completely over the captain’s head. Rex wasn’t fluent in Jedi-eese. 

Whatever the case, Skywalker clearly needed to explain himself to someone, and Rex was willing to listen if it would increase mission productivity.

“I probed our connection through the Force, and I felt some outside interference. Something… something blocking her powers, or trying to at least. Her presence in the Force felt suppressed, and the connection was weak. It was so fragile I mistook it for gone entirely, at first.”

_ The Commander would never do that _ , was Rex’s immediate thought.  _ Not on purpose _ . As had been said, she cared about her teacher too much to shut him out completely, and cause him to, well, panic. Not to mention Rex had never heard of a Jedi attempting to quell their own Force sensitivity before. Must less Commander Tano. It was such an out-of-character thing to even consider. It felt so… wrong. But then again, Rex was not the Jedi guru, and he didn’t really know what all of this meant.

“Sir?” He tried, hoping his helpless feeling hadn’t translated into his voice. “Is it possible to find her?”

The general shook his head roughly. “I tried  _ so hard _ . This is supposed to come easy for me, given our strong bond, and my fluency with the Force, but… it was a struggle just to sense her. Believe me, Rex, I tried tracing her for so long. I just—I can’t do anything without being closer, or without her reaching out directly. I don’t even have a clue what’s happened.”

Well darn.

That was really unfortunate. That was no good at all.

Not just because Rex was worried for his Commander’s safety. That wasn’t the only reason. Without Ahsoka, they couldn’t leave the planet, and the troops couldn’t fulfil their mandate. Without Ahsoka, the men also responded in quite the same manner as Rex: that is to say they were,  _ barely keeping it together _ .

After the first squadron came back empty-handed, General Skywalker announced the situation to the rest of the battalion. Fives was so freaked, he snapped his magazine clip and jammed his blaster. Kix tore a hole in his new medkit. Echo said some words Rex didn’t know the meaning of.

They were all used to the Commander’s shenanigans, but they all seemed to sense how seriously the general was taking this—how close he too was to freaking out—and they were all really worried because of it.

That… that had been three days ago. The Commander had been missing for three days. General Skywalker would have since swallowed his pride and contacted the Jedi Council for help—if he wasn’t so busy combing the city with the rest of the men. 

He’d left Rex at the base to conduct the search, and the captain had slept about as much as the general. He only wished they’d let him join the search parties. Sitting in command, staring at useless maps, that was driving him nuts a lot faster than interacting with locals would.

Lucky thing the general was a considerate man. Late in the third day, as Rex had been busy glaring at the nearby bin, Skywalker burst into the room, breathless, and for once without a dark frown about his features.

“Rex!”

Rex abandoned his violent plans for the garbage container and shot to his feet. “General Skywalker!”

“Rex, we have a lead. Grab your blasters, let’s go!”

“Wh-I—Sir?”

“Let’s go!”

There was hardly any time for Rex to snatch his bucket from the table before the general disappeared again. 

A lead? That was good. It was less than they’d hoped for, of course, but at least they were getting somewhere. And at least Rex was being included. Skywalker came all the way back to command to include the captain. Was his expertise needed? It didn’t matter. Rex was more than ready to join the fray if his Commander needed him. The general didn’t have to ask twice.

A transport was waiting by the time he caught up to the Jedi.

“Sir, what kind of information are we looking at?” Rex clambered into the ship as it began to pull away. Seemed he wasn’t the only one in a hurry.

Skywalker didn’t even bother holding onto the hangers as he turned in a tight circle to pace. An almost-smile pulled on his features, but he looked too apprehensive to let it really manifest, and there were bite marks on his lips so deep the skin had broken. He was still very nervous, and still very worried. 

Rex needed to pull himself together. If not just for himself, but for the general as well. At least  _ one _ of them had to be the level head if they were to find his Commander with efficiency, and everyone knew who the duty definitely  _ wouldn’t _ fall to.

“There are rumors of a certain… ah,  _ special _ trade convention in the lower part of the city.” He shot Rex a look to see if he understood. “That kind of… profession isn’t illegal in this system, but apparently the local syndicates highly discourage it, and the trades are kept pretty quiet.”

Oh.  _ Oh. _

Rex’s insides got a little cold. The implications were vague, but given what he knew about the general, he could guess which `profession` was being referred to. 

There were rumors about Skywalker’s past, and where he’d come from. Rumors that the Jedi had been his saving grace, just as much as he had been to them, that he’d won his freedom in a game of chance. Rex didn’t know how much of it was true. He’d heard from his Commander that Skywalker used to live in the Outer Rim. Rex had also learned that slavery was legal in the Outer Rim, and he could imagine.

This understanding made Rex realize some of the why behind the general’s mannerisms, and especially his treatment of the men. The way he treated them like people.

The reason he was so worried now.

Rex would be worried too, if he thought his vod had been kidnapped and sold on the slave trade.

“I asked around. People were reluctant to talk, but I managed to convince some information from a few. She was last seen in sector eight. They think she was taken outside the city.”

Rex’s grip on the handle tightened. So this was a refined search. And it involved criminal behavior. How exciting. 

“If we get close enough, I should be able to sense her force signature, and we can follow the trail to wherever the heck she is.”

It would be nice to have a more solid plan. This felt like a bit of a toss-up. Like a gamble. So many uncertainties and contingencies and possible ways for this to fail. Then again, after three days of  _ nothing _ , Rex really couldn’t complain. At least things were starting to move along.

“I understand, Sir.”

Skywalker nodded. “I’ll need you to cover me in case we run into any aggressive negotiations. Stealth is fine, but a little blaster fire can always come in handy.”

Rex nodded back.

A speeder was waiting when the transport touched down. Skywalker jumped out immediately, captain in hot pursuit. The waiting trooper handed over a pile of civvies and saluted.

“Standard issue, General. Sir, are there any further orders?”

“No Kegs, thanks. Remain on standby. This shouldn’t take long. Rex,”

He pulled a jacket from the pile and threw it at Rex. “Take your helmet off. And put this on.”

“Sir?”

“No need to de-kit, but we’re going for incognito, right?”

“Yes Sir.”

They climbed into the speeder without further pomp. Skywalker had barely twisted into his civvies (“fashion sucks. This is why I don’t let Padmé dress me”) before he gunned the engine, and they shot off. 

Rex clipped his bucket to his belt. The jacket fit oddly over his pauldron, but it had a hood, and the disguise was pretty quality for the Outer Systems, where common dress included at least some variation of plated armor, and clones were easily hidden. The general himself was sporting a more local style: one that easily tied up his Jedi outfit while still allowing for free movement. 

The clothes wouldn’t be a problem in a firefight. Rex was just worried they wouldn’t  _ see _ a firefight, and that another day would pass without any progress. Force knew what could be happening to his Commander—he didn’t want to wait another minute before she was back safe with the battalion—one day was way too long to wait, much less three.

Skywalker slowed as they neared the edge of the city. He probably should have stopped all the way to be safe. Given the circumstances, as well as the general’s piloting proficiency, Rex was mostly disinclined to care about safety. As long as this worked.

“This is where they told me to go.” 

The buildings became smaller, and less extravagant. Soon, they dropped off almost completely. Thin roads led out into the surrounding suburban areas, where the rolling hills sported dry, thick grass, and the only hint of civilization was the occasional skyline on the horizon.

General Skywalker didn't slow down as they left the city behind. In fact, he might have pushed the vehicle even faster, causing it to shake almost imperceptibly under the strain.

“This feels right.” The Jedi narrowed his eyes against the wind and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I can sense her. There’s definitely a disturbance in the Force.”

Not for long. 

Rex pulled up a holomap of the surrounding structures, just for the next stack of leagues. Most of them looked like… manors. Massive compounds. Fancy buildings for rich people and all their households. People most likely to have slaves. People most likely to covet exotic, powerful, attractive slaves. Servants that resembled his Commander.

Based on their current trajectory (Skywalker wasn’t following any specific directions, he was obviously steering with the Force or something), Rex was able to calculate the most likely destination, where the general was confident to find his apprentice. It was another large property, another handful of leagues away. They’d probably arrive in fewer than five counts, if they kept up their current speed (which they weren’t. They were getting faster, if anything). From the map, it also seemed that the buildings were fairly squat and low to the ground—at least, compared to the others available on the holo. Maybe high ceilings, tops, for what Rex could imagine.

“I’m feeling a large number of people.” Skywalker announced. “I sense our destination will be pretty crowded. Do we still want to try sneaking in?”

“Absolutely, Sir. We can’t let them know we’re coming. I suggest you cut the speed a league out, so we won’t be detectable on security scanners. We can even approach on foot, if necessary. The landscape will provide us with adequate cover.”

“Got it.”

Skywalker stuffed his laser sword into the sash around his waist. Rex followed suit and tucked his blasters inside the deceptively concealing jacket. 

Whomever had seen fit to take his Commander was going to pay for it with blood. This was a highly punishable offense. And no one was getting away with it. Rex would make sure of that.


	2. A Million Lonely Lights

The compound manor thing was even fancier up close. It was a lot bigger too; if it had any more buildings, it could be considered a village, or a small town. Fancy landscaping covered the grounds, lush and green in stark contrast to the dark fields of the surrounding landscape, like some kind of underground sprinkler system had been installed to keep the foliage from dying. That, added to the shiny spires and expensive architecture made for a very out-of-place look. Rex didn’t like it.

“See that wall around the compound?”

Rex was using his binoculars to scan as far into the property as possible. Aside from the greens, there were also bright lights decorating the buildings closest to the center, and the sound of music overlapped the underlying hum of voices. 

“I see it, Sir. There seem to be security cameras at periodic intervals along those turrets, there. With the curvature of the structure, they’ll be hard to dodge.”

“Shooting them out would cause suspicion, of course.”

“That’s right. With a property this primped, I don’t doubt that a guard might be watching.”

“Any chance of jamming them remotely?”

“I might be able to temporarily disable the system if I can access that control panel over there. It looks like there’s a slim margin between the flanking cameras.”

“Alright, so if we come up from the south, we can barely avoid being spotted.”

“Once I make the necessary adjustments, we should have just enough time to scale the wall and infiltrate the compound. Though, I can’t guarantee that the outer system runs the same circuit as the inside. Our presence may yet be detected, ‘specially if those civvies see us coming in.”

“Leave that to me.”

“Right, Sir.”

Rex clipped the binocs back to his belt and tugged the jacket closer. This should be a simple enough job, and with a Jedi watching his back, the odds were certainly stacked in their favor. He could only hope that their efforts were rewarded. Another dead end was going to frustrate him beyond belief.

“Ready?” 

“Always, Sir.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

The two of them crept along the hillside, mindful of the cameras’ blindspots, slowly making their way towards the control panel on the south bend of the wall. As the landscape dipped, Rex lost sight of the buildings scattered within its bounds. How was the general going to figure out the inner security system if they couldn’t even see? Ah well, mystical Jedi powers or something of that sort, most likely. Rex would have to have faith in the man. It wasn’t like there was a reason not to, after all.

They reached the controls without much fuss. Rex didn’t waste a second before getting to work, immediately prying the panel open and assessing the inner casing with a practiced eye. Skywalker crouched down behind him.

This shouldn’t take long. All they needed was to penetrate security code, and in the time it took the system to reboot, they could be completely over the wall. The only challenge would be leaving as little damage as possible, in order to prevent disabling the circuit entirely, and consequently give away their presence. This whole sneaking around thing would be pointless if they were discovered now.

Rex slipped his hand through the web of wires. Blast it, this was gross. So unorganized, even hard for him to handle. No doubt Skywalker would have a fit if he looked—but the Jedi wasn’t minding the control panel. In fact, when Rex glanced down, he saw the general’s eyes shut tight, like he was deep in concentration.

Mystical Jedi powers indeed. Rex turned back to the casing.

Was it the blue, or the black? Or maybe both? Well now, the blue was connected to the backframe circuit board, which was linked to the compound’s power grid… and the black? Where did that one even go? Rex had to tilt his head in to get a better view.

If he’d been a handful of years younger, the general’s behavior might have concerned him. What kind of lookout knelt on the ground and closed their eyes? But Rex knew better than to think Skywalker wasn’t acutely aware of his surroundings, even if momentarily blind to them. He’d actually come to recognize the general’s presence in his mind, whenever the Jedi stretched out his energy to the Force or whatever, in order to feel his surroundings (the general was strong with the Force, but he was  _ not _ subtle. Rex didn’t have to be Force-sensitive to feel him, at times). He could sense that presence now, and the quiet way it spread out over the compound like a mist. Anyone not familiar with the muted touch would likely brush it off as a simple twinge of thought. Rex had to commend the general. He was certainly sparing no effort in this endeavor.

By the time the mist abated, Rex had successfully isolated the power connector for the outer wall.

“Sir,” He said softly, as Skywalker blinked his eyes open. “On standby to reboot the outer security circuit. We’ll have approximately seven seconds of blackout before the system comes back online. In that time, we’ll need to get over the wall, and find a way to infiltrate the compound.”

Skywalker rose to his feet and brushed his hands off, sporting his trademark smirk, even if it was more strained than usual. “Ah, shouldn’t be too hard.”

“There’s a complication, Sir.”

“What’s that?”

“The alarms within the compound run a separate security system then those on the outer wall. We’ll have to find a way to disable it, if we are to successfully establish our breach, but I can’t do that from here. There’s no telling whether we’ll be spotted as soon as we get over.”

Skywalker nodded thoughtfully. “I know,” He mused, donning a contemplative expression entirely resemblant of General Kenobi. “I could sense that, but I think I’ve found a way around it.”

Oh dear, hopefully not some new cockamamie scheme; Rex didn’t know if he could handle gambling with risks like that, not when his Commander might be on the line. This was a simple enough mission, wasn’t it? Simple recon. They didn’t have to make it extravagant.

Thankfully, Skywalker seemed to be of the same mind. Not that he was neglecting his usual strategies, but mostly in the sense that this chase had him exhausted, and he too was more than ready to just end it quick.

“If we go over right here, we’ll land in another blind spot between cameras. There’s a guardhouse about twenty-four meters northwest, and it seems to oversee all security operations. I only sense four signatures coming from it. They shouldn’t be a problem at all, between you and me. Look, if we come up from the flanks, we’ll still be able to steer mostly clear of the cameras, and we can catch the guards by surprise. From there, we’ll be able to sabotage communications, and get a proper layout for the rest of the compound.”

Rex almost raised an eyebrow, before remembering he didn’t have his helmet on. “Get all that from the Force, Sir?”

The general’s grin was a little more relaxed. “Oh, you betcha. I also felt Ahsoka, while I was reaching out. She’s definitely here.” His smile quickly faded at the mention of his apprentice. “Her signature is getting weaker by the count, though. I can’t pinpoint exactly where she is.”

That wouldn’t be a problem for much longer. If they were able to take the guardhouse, they should have access to the compound’s layout, as well as the headcount and log of outside activities. If Commander Tano was here, as the general said, locating her would be the easy part.

“We’ll find her Sir, don’t worry. Ready when you are.”

They shifted into action positions. Skywalker’s face went carefully grim. He nodded.

“On three.”

“One,”

“Two,”

“Three!”

They had seven seconds. With a swift flick of his wrist, Rex snapped the wire.

_ One _ .

He slammed the control panel closed and pivoted to face the wall, raised his arm, fired his grapple.

_ Two _ .

Together, he and the general vaulted up the structure. It was an easy five meters; they’d cleared it in no time.

_ Three _ .

They touched down within the grounds, surrounded by greenery. Rex could see the guardhouse, just as the general had said. The rest of the buildings were farther off, outside what seemed to be a garden area, where they’d landed. They ran towards the outpost.

_ Four, five. _

He could mark four guards as he darted around the flank. 

_ Six _ .

Skywalker copied him on the opposite side, closing fast.

_ Seven _ .

Voices from within the small structure could be heard, just as Rex and the general slipped against the outside.

“There, looks like the system’s back online.”

“What happened? Was it a malfunction?”

“Ah, who can say? You know these new models are spotty; they reboot on their own if any anomaly is detected. But we’d better do a perimeter check, just in case. Make sure nothing’s broken out there.”

“Copy that.”

Rex caught the general’s eye and saw him nod.

_ Now _ .

A door opened just over Rex’s shoulder, and one of the officers stepped out. He could hear the same thing happening on Skywalker’s side. Before the guard could react to anything, Rex grabbed him by the arm and jammed an elbow into his temple. Lights out. He dove into the guardhouse without missing a beat. The other two sentries were incapacitated with such efficiency that their heads had barely turned to process the scene. They slumped down in their chairs, unconscious. Skywalker ducked in a second later.

“Nice work, Rex.” He praised, voice low. “We should find a map here.”

It took them a few counts to tie the guards up and stuff them behind the ceiling panels, but then they had free reign of the controls, and it was a cinch finding what they needed.

“There,” Skywalker pointed at a large building—on the holomap they’d projected—which was located towards the center of the grounds, and shaped like a wide hall. “This is where I feel the strongest concentration of people. I also sense Ahsoka is among them, barely.”

Rex pulled the map onto his holodisc. “Alright, let’s go.”

“It seems like it’s only one level, though this building is taller than most of the others, so it’s hard to be sure.”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Yeah…”

As it so happened, they hardly needed the map at all, even as the sun rapidly sank behind the horizon and left them in the dark. What really helped was the noise. Skywalker’s assessment of the lifeform concentration within this sector of the compound seemed to prove accurate, as the sound of music, talk, and laughter steadily grew, the closer they got to the building of their interest.

“What is this?” Rex murmured, almost to himself.

Handfuls of people wandered about in the center of the estate, some loitering outside buildings with drinks in hand, some chatting it up with friends. Most of them appeared to be natives of the planet, though a few looked fairly foreign, and all of them were clearly of high social ranking. Of course, why else would they be admitted to these extravagant, lush grounds in any other case? The environment was far too fine for any simple commoner.

“Some kind of party?”

The general narrowed his eyes as they slunk past a tipsy female. Their target location had been reached, and now they were simply scanning for an entrance, while still attempting to remain mostly unnoticed.

“Looks that way,” Skywalker grumbled. “Come on, I think I see an entrance.”

If Rex hadn’t been in hyper-alert-mission-mode, he might have enjoyed the scene just a little. Everything  _ was _ really pretty. The decorations were carefully flattering, the music was vibrant and fun, and the party guests were literally in good spirits (because what was a wealthy reception without freely-flowing drinks?). The courtyard glowed in the aura of a million little lights. Clearly, the host had spared no expense. Rex would have liked to soak it all up for a short time, if he’d had the luxury. What had his Commander called it? Eye candy?

“Oooh~what have I found?”

Rex almost tripped when a heavy weight settled on his arm. Startled, he jerked to assess the situation, and found a female twi’lek hanging on him—because that species was everywhere, apparently.

The woman was obviously intoxicated, but by looks alone, it was obvious that she belonged at this lavish junction. Her pale, golden complexion was nothing shy of flattering, and her plump lekku seemed to glow in the lights. A headdress of jewels dripped from her forehead. Costly fabric the color of a dreary sky hung off her limbs in the local style. She was also pretty attractive, if anyone cared about that. Her sandy brown eyes stared up at Rex through a haze.

“Ma’am, please step asi—”

“A soldier, by the looks of it. My, aren’t you so strapping! I do love a good bit of eye candy.” 

Rex had to do a system reboot, but it took longer than seven seconds.

The twi’lek tangled her arms around his, and he didn’t wait a count to reach the terrifying conclusion that he was immobilized. The lekku soon joined her cause, moving offensively close, creeping up his shoulder. Her sharp scent assaulted his nose: a tangy perfume, mixed with whatever sour drink she had on her breath. Rex subconsciously leaned away—though it didn’t help much.

“General Skywalker!” He hissed. But the general was already a few paces ahead, and didn’t hear.

“What an attractive specimen.” The twi hummed. She had a very unnerving glint in her eye. Rex wished he could push her away without causing a scene. “Do you work here, you handsome sandstar? Mmm? Are you for sale tonight?”

Kriff, this lady was persistent! Of all ways to get sidetracked, Rex was—admittedly—most caught off guard by this one. He’d… he’d been told before (mostly by his Commander’s second-hand) that the clones were considerably attractive creatures, as far as human standards went, but he never put much thought into it. Maybe he should have. It would come in handy to understand what the kriff was going on, right about now. When was the last time he’d felt so uncomfortable?

The twi pulled his shoulders down to her level and tried to nip at his ear—crazy drunk!

“Perhaps I can arrange something, just for tonight. Your master will understand; he’s a good friend of mine.” Her voice was velvety, like a feline purr. It definitely didn’t do a thing to make Rex freak the less out. “Though, I will have to see to your reassignment to the pleasure palace—we can’t have this delicious morsel all wasted on soldiering, now can we?”

Rex was feeling quite the mix of things all at once.

She thought he was a servant, didn’t she? Or some kind of slave? It was obvious that he was not a party guest, at least. His dusty, scuffed up armor was hardly attire fancy enough. 

But was this seriously how people behaved towards slaves? She acted like it was no big deal to drape herself all over someone she didn’t know, and talk about buying his company for the night. Was this a common practice? The twi was drunk. Did she even realize what she was doing? Rex really hoped not. He might be sick otherwise—though not because his feet were cold, or whatever the saying was. The current encounter was already disturbing enough.

Feeling the twi’s lekku curl against his jaw was about the last thing he could handle.  _ Don’t make a scene _ . He urged himself silently.  _ Think of your Commander; you’re here for her! _ But Rex was less than a count away from judo flipping his assailant, or lashing out to just get her the kriff off him. It was all he could do to grit his teeth and stay focused.

“General!” Rex tried again, a little louder. He could hear the desperation in his own voice. The sims had not prepared him for this. “General Skywalker!”

This time, Skywalker managed to hear—or he must have felt Rex’s panic through the Force, because he turned back around, brow raised.

“Rex!” He rushed over. 

The twi pouted heavily as the Jedi peeled her away from Rex. 

“Oh pooh, you’re stealing my toy!” She whined, and tried to cling to his arm. “I really liked this one!”

Skywalker glared at her, with all his usual charm. An expression part growl, and part sneer twisted his mouth straight down. “Find yourself a new one.” He snarled, and ripped them apart, quite unceremoniously. He tossed her aside with a rough shove.

“Sir—”

“Oh, why didn’t you just say he was yours?” The twi scoffed, then staggered, without a clone to support her. “Fine, I’ll find some different company!” She stomped off as best she could in her intoxicated state.

Rex was mostly relieved that she hadn’t thrown too much of a fit and drawn attention to them all. He was relieved to get her off of him.

“Well that… Sir?”

Skywalker looked livid. His robotic hand was gripping Rex’s arm so tightly that the captain could feel it through his armor. Wow. That would hurt, if hard plating hadn’t been protecting him. Was the general mad? Mad at him? Should he have disengaged sooner, instead of calling for help?

“Rex,” The general’s voice was low and angry. “Don’t listen to a single word these people say.” His eyes flashed. He looked furious. “You’re not a toy. You don’t belong to  _ anyone _ .” Then he released Rex’s arm, and balled his hands into tight fists. A muscle in his jaw worked itself.

Well that wasn’t exactly true, was it? Rex  _ was _ a clone, after all. Hadn’t he been bought with money? Wasn’t he technically… wasn’t he a slave? Huh, the thought had never crossed his mind before. It seemed about right, though. At the very least, he certainly wasn’t freeborn.

“But General, that’s not wha—”

“I know what the contracts say!” Skywalker snapped. He took a moment to close his eyes, breathe deep, and settle that explosive anger. “I know what they say.” He started again slowly. “But they’re banthacrap, if you ask me. Besides, the only people who think in those terms are the rich snobs on Coruscant. Once the war is over, the rest of us aren’t stopping until every last one of your brothers has the sentient rights they’re owed.”

“...yes Sir.” Rex said, because he was conditioned to follow orders, even if not all of them computed. At the same time, he was touched that a nat was so vehement about his freedom. He hadn’t considered it much himself, after all, and now the prospect was scrambling up his emotions a good kriffing ton. Part of him wished he had his bucket on, just so he’d be free to make a confused face, without appearing incompetent. (But then, he’d decided to be the responsible one, so he had to push that thought aside).

“Come on, I found the entrance.” Skywalker turned sharply and began stalking towards the building.

Ah, this Rex could handle. This was familiar. He jogged to catch up.

The big hall building at the center of the courtyard had a fairly wide mouth, if strangely angled, and it seemed to lead into a large open space with a high ceiling. Rex and the general feigned casualty as they sidled in through the front. Apparently, the building was split-level: not a thing most of the guests would have noticed, provided they were as drunk as they seemed. 

Two warriors, however, were observant. The main flight tapered down—give or take a couple of meters—into a fancy lounge area, if lounges were the size of small hangers, and could comfortably fit thirty speeder bikes side to side from one end to the other.

Plush couches fanned out along the outsides of the room, creating seating areas with low cushions and sparkling centerpieces. There was a bar, and holotables, and more fairy lights, and if Rex reached out and grabbed a coaster, the price for just one might be enough to buy his Commander a whole new headdress, with a fancy outfit to match. More elegant guests drifted around the room. Their clothes flashed and shimmered, their voices melted together in a swelling and fading rhythm. Some were dancing in a clear space at the center of the room. They swayed their bodies to the beat of the music, courtesy of a band in the corner.

Rex could also see a number of females spread out about the lounge, wearing the same green dress that hung long past their ankles. But even though he couldn’t see the chains himself, he could recognize the unnatural gait that indicated fetters, and it made him very uneasy. The women bowed their heads and served the guests. They forced polite smiles.

As for the top level of the building, two staircases flanked the middle flight into the lounge. They were far more narrow, and no lights had been cast on them: a clear signal that they were off limits. From looks, they only connected to a balcony above the first floor, which wrapped around the circumference of the room. It seemed like a good vantage from which to survey the lounge, especially because it was dark up there, and no one from below would mind a couple of lone figures, two meters overhead.

“We should go up, Sir.” Rex murmured.

Skywalker nodded. They made for the stairs on the right.

No one else had taken any interest in the balcony, so they were alone as they stalked along the railing and scanned the room below.

They had made it this far. They’d found the place that Ahsoka was supposed to be, and as of yet, nobody suspected a thing. What more was there to do? Rex supposed it was the general’s turn. Wasn’t he supposed to sense his padawan using space wizard magic? If Ahsoka was within the walls of this building, they should be able to find her.

Rex swept his eyes over the lounge. Ah, a detail he’d missed coming in. To the sides of the incoming landing, a handful of doors were tucked at the bottom of two more flights of stairs. They seemed to lead to a kind of basement, or at least separate rooms farther underground. If Ahsoka wasn’t in the lounge—and she didn’t appear to be—they might find her through there.

“Sir,” Rex waved at the general to get his attention. “Sir, look, down by the far wall.”

Skywalker raised an eyebrow. Carefully, he took hold of the railing, and lowered himself into a crouch, falling almost completely into the shadows. “Good eye.” He said.

Rex glanced down again and decided to copy him, this time. There was no point standing, if there was a chance they might draw unnecessary attention to themselves, and there was no control panel now to hardwire. 

Skywalker closed his eyes. The mist spread out right on cue.

And Rex waited.


	3. Rocket Fuel

About one count went by before the general’s eyes snapped open again. Was it too soon? Or was the Commander’s signature coming back?

“She’s here.” He blurted, blue eyes flashing in the dark. “She’s right there behind that door—”

A loud chime cut into the general’s words, causing him and Rex to attend the lounge more faithfully.

Rex noted a particularly wealthy man rise from his recline at the center of the room, glass in hand. His hair had been slicked back. His clothes were crusted with so many jewels that a strange halo of light glowed in reflection around his ankles, which were undeniably shackle-free. He looked healthy. He looked well-fed.

“Attention, attention! Beloved,” The man called out with a raised voice. The chime sounded again, and the guests’ chatter gradually lulled to soft whispers. 

His smile commanded.

“I am unfond of lengthy speeches, thus I will be brief. We are here in celebration!”

Approving murmurs floated up. Rex shifted uneasily. There was a very  _ off _ sense of benevolence, particularly coming from this man, and he didn’t like it. Being instinctual wasn’t straight shooting all the time, but General Skywalker had also told him not to ignore the tug in his gut, especially when it came to people. He said Rex was a good judge of character.

Another man stood from the couches, much younger than the first, but very similar in appearance. A thin band of gold circled his crown, and his eyes were dark. The lines of his mouth were sharp. He was a son, clearly.

“We are here today for the celebration of my son, Úmanyar!” The father announced with pride. He held an arm out, and placed it around the young man’s shoulders. “On this day, twenty cycles ago, he witnessed his first sunrise. Congratulations, my boy.”

Úmanyar raised his own glass, and tilted a smile up at the guests. “To twenty cycles.” He hummed. “To another sunrise.”

The toast was accepted heartily. 

Rex gripped the railing tighter. This was going to be a tricky engagement, if all these people were stumbling around intoxicated, unable to see straight. Ahh, blast alcohol. A pleasure, at times, but downright annoying at others.

“I have a gift for my son.”

Oh, they weren’t done talking? Get it over with! Rex needed to find his Commander, and he’d rather do it now.

“Let’s have a bit of entertainment, hmm?”

The two men in the lounge lowered themselves back to their couches. They continued to drink. They looked so proud.

Rex’s fingers strained.

“She’s coming out.” Skywalker narrated. His eyes snapped to the door.

And the door opened, and a guard stepped forth. He was human too. Not a togruta. In one hand, he held the key to the pad. Why did the door have a key? Why was it locked? In his other hand, he held the end of a chain. A chain?

And as he stepped over the threshold, Rex’s questions for the chain were answered.

There she was.

That was a togruta. A young, female togruta, with lovely orange skin, and stripes a deep 501st blue. Sleek shackles buzzed around her wrists, connected to the chain in the man’s hand. Her head was bowed. Her stride lacked all the characteristic confidence of a Republic Commander in the Clone Army. Another set of shackles sat snugly on her ankles, crackling with each step. There was a thick collar around her throat. A small red light flashed.

What… what was she  _ wearing _ ?

Rex choked at what he saw.

_ Little more than nothing _ , was the answer. Some odd combination of shimmering fabric and flashy wires was all that stood between the entire population of party guests and her privacy, though she was already totally indecent. Two stingy pieces of material cupped her breasts, and a wide band hung low on her hips, with just enough bearing to cover the space between her legs. Iridescent cords hung from her entire body. It looked like she was covered in a web made of crystals.

Her montrals were dull, as was her gaze. There was no spark of defiance, no mischievous glint, no excitement, no  _ life _ . There was a haze over her eyes, like a layer of fog. Like she couldn’t really see.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. Ahsoka was the spunky, energetic, feisty one of the group. She never took nonsense, and she didn’t tolerate anything that went against her beliefs, or who she was. Now it looked as if her entire mind had been hijacked—which probably fit in well with Skywalker’s perception of her Force signature. This wasn’t like her at all. She wasn’t compliant. She wasn’t subdued. She wasn’t a slave.

Every part of it was wrong.

“Those… those  _ bastards _ .” The general seethed.

Rex tore his gaze from his Commander for a moment, just to assess Skywalker’s condition. He could swear on literal fire raging behind the Jedi’s eyes. His metal hand clenched the railing so hard it was denting, crumpling. His face was a furious, livid white.

Rex didn’t have to be Force-sensitive to feel the rage rolling off of him in waves. And he wasn’t even projecting.

This was  _ sick _ . This was  _ disgusting _ .

First, his Commander had been kidnapped, then  _ enslaved _ , and now she was being paraded around in front of a hundred spoiled party guests with all her dignity stripped away. 

That was downright vile. There was no excuse for behavior this repulsive. If Rex hadn’t seen red before, he was definitely seeing it now. It would be  _ sooo _ easy to vault over this broken railing, wave his blasters around, and shoot her free. He wanted to. He really really wanted to. He knew the general wanted to do it too.

But for some reason, they waited.

The guard pulled Ahsoka to the middle of the lounge and presented her to the hosts.

“Ah, lovely creature. Isn’t she, my son?”

Úmanyar beckoned her closer. A particular glint in his eye had Rex nearly screaming with outrage. How… how  _ dare _ this scum desire such a beautiful young woman? A woman who was chained before him, wearing some sorry excuse for clothing, and deserved better than his leering gaze.

Ahsoka deserved so much better.

“Lovely.” Úmanyar agreed. He reached up, and pulled her down to his side.

She barely flinched, barely reacted at all.

“Sir—” Rex’s voice was strangled with so much anger, he knew for sure he’d never be able to articulate himself. Lucky thing the general was a perceptive man. Though that may have just been his empathy in full manifestation.

“That collar is blocking her Force connection.” Skywalker managed. He sounded equally as plagued as Rex, though shocked, too, and now growing on being startled. “I didn’t know that was possible. She’s barely computing right now.”

Úmanyar caressed one of Ahsoka’s lekku, ghosting his fingers along the surface with a stupid smile.

She hated that. Rex knew she hated that.

“Let’s take it off, then.” He growled.

But as he snatched up his blasters and prepared to stand, the general threw out an arm to stop him.

“Negative, negative! Look!”

Úmanyar’s father was handing him a small remote, with few buttons, though Rex didn’t have a good view from this far away. They laughed arrogantly. Like the arrogant pricks they were.

“I  _ knew _ I saw a scar…” The general’s voice wobbled just a little bit. 

“A scar, Sir? What are you talking about?”

“Look, look. Beneath her left shoulder. They didn’t use bacta fast enough. That one’s going to last.”

The next time Ahsoka turned her back to them, Rex could see it. A sharp, straight white line, tucked along the inside of her left shoulder blade. So sharp, it must have been made with a knife.

“What is that?”

“I’ve seen it before.” The horror in his voice was tangible, barely laying over the fury. “Most slaves have one.”

Rex did not. What did it mean?

“She’s been implanted with a slave chip. A transmitter chip. One touch of a button and she’ll be blown to bits.”

_ What _ ?

Rex didn’t have anything to say for a count. She’d be  _ what _ ? With one little chip? One tiny piece of technology? Who would design such a monstrosity? Who would employ it? Who would  _ use _ it? Why the kriff would such a device even exist to begin with?

“And Lifeday Boy has the remote.”

Rex’s knuckles cracked—he was clenching his fists so hard. Didn’t he say he would keep his cool? He had to do it for the general.  _ Do it for his Commander _ . But it was really hard. And it was taking a great deal of his concentration.

“Now that you’ve been acquainted to our dear Ahsoka,”

That man had no right to say her name. Rex wanted to rip his tongue out.

“Don’t you think it’s appropriate for her to entertain us a little?”

It was  _ not _ appropriate. It was not appropriate at all.

“Sir, we can’t just sit here and let them—”

“I know! I know!” Skywalker abused his lip fiercely, and shoved his hands through his hair. “We have to play this safe, though. One false move and she could  _ die _ .”

“He… that scum  _ likes _ her. He wouldn’t—not if we act quickly—”

But the general shook his head, and he was very firm. “Just revealing our relation to her is a bad idea, no matter how pleased with his new toy we may think he is.”

Rex snarled. He was so  _ angry _ . He wanted to act now. Sitting around, just watching these creeps have their way was bringing him frighteningly close to lashing out. He couldn’t maintain this level head for very long, not where his Commander was concerned.

_ They had no right. No right. _

Skywalker must have sensed Rex’s tension, because he reached over and gripped his shoulder tightly. The action did little to ground either of them, but at least they knew they weren’t alone in their fury.

“Trust me.” The general growled through his teeth. “I’ve seen children detonated for less.”

Ahsoka wasn’t a child, but she was still in danger, and Rex’s composure could be the thing between keeping her in one piece and watching her blood paint the floor. That much he could understand. That much he could grasp, wrap his mind around, act on—or neglect to act, therefore. If there was one thing stronger than his anger at the moment, it was his need to keep her safe.

“We need to get the remote away from that banthapie.” The general schemed. “He’s relaxed now, but I sense a strong possessiveness of Ahsoka. Do you think a few more drinks would make him slip up?”

Rex was going to crush his blasters if he wasn’t careful.

Out in the lounge, his Commander stood from Úmanyar’s side, and made her way to the dancing area, free of furniture. The guests parted to clear some space.

“If it would please my master,” She raised her voice for the first time.

Rex hated and loved it at once. He hated the flat, lifeless tone, how subdued she sounded, how empty. He hated that she called her captor `master`. He hated that her words were just as dead as her eyes. But at least he was hearing them at all, after going three days without certainty of ever listening to them again.

“I will commemorate this dance, for the celebration of his lifeday.”

Drums sounded, from the musicians in the corner of the room. Heavy, loud drums that made the floor quiver, and the air fill with energy. The lights changed. As they should, they shifted, turning, twisting, until all their beams were angled at Ahsoka, and she shone like a single floating star.

Rex grit his teeth. “Yes, Sir. I believe so.”

He wasn’t looking when she started to dance, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to see her obedience, her compliance, her beautiful movements dedicated to the pleasure of a lustful man. He turned away from the railing, and followed Skywalker back down to the first floor.

He didn’t watch as she twirled and spun and stomped her feet and made the chains rattle. She was already being scrutinized too closely. Even if she wasn’t aware of the looks, of the way the men were eyeing her graceful form, she probably wouldn’t appreciate another pair of eyes, tracking her movements, or the thoughts that the vision of her would provoke. So Rex kept his head down as he scooped up his drinks.

Up close, Úmanyar was every bit as greasy as his father. His body was strong, and he slept well at night. This far away from the Republic, from the war, he must be perfectly content to take what he wanted without shame. What did he have to be anxious about? The wealthy, and the privileged, they had no reason to worry. Their slaves danced for them.

Úmanyar accepted Rex’s toast without a second thought, though he never took his gaze away from Ahsoka. A cruel smirk curled his lips at the corners.

“Happy lifeday.” Rex muttered. “You must be pleased. Don’t you have everything you want?”

The young master bared his teeth just so. “Never.” Without prompting, he grabbed two more glasses from a passing tray and shoved one into Rex’s hand. He made his own toast. 

“May we never be satisfied.”

Rex didn’t raise his glass to that, but Úmanyar didn’t seem to notice. He downed his drink in one swallow.

“Thank you for coming, good man.”

“I could never miss drinks this exquisite.” Rex said, though he didn’t fancy the beverages at all. They gave his throat a fierce burn. Rocket fuel belonged in spacecraft, thank you, not lifeforms.

Úmanyar laughed. “Indeed, they are not worth missing.”

“Have another, young master. Spoil yourself; you earn it.” It took a great deal of effort to leave the clip out of those words, especially with a dancing togruta only a few paces behind him. 

“I just might. Thank you for the advice, my friend.” 

Rex gave him his own glass, then found another and passed it on. Which of them looked most exotic? Most intoxicating? Most poisonous? He found many, and brought them back, only looking at his Commander when necessary. He saw when she threw her arms out, when the rays between her wrists  _ cracked _ , when she barely flinched from the surge of energy.

Part of him wanted to watch her dance, just because he knew how beautiful she could turn a little movement out to be. Under less harrowing, less… difficult circumstances, he might have been persuaded to do just that. But now was hardly the appropriate time. He was ashamed, on behalf of the systems that practiced this, the Republic that allowed this. Her dancing deserved a real audience.

Skywalker sent a group of guests to drink to Úmanyar’s lifeday, and Rex took the opportunity to drift background-bound. He kept his eyes glued on the remote, though, and was able to gauge when the slaver’s hold began to slip.

“Skywalker,” He muttered under his breath. “He’s almost there.”

The drums throbbed heavily.

A note of acknowledgement hummed in the Force, which Rex took as the general’s reply. Who needed comms, right? When you had a Jedi, you could talk mind-to-mind. Very convenient.

Across the room, they made eye-contact. Rex could sense the moment drawing closer.

The music swelled. Ahsoka spun through the air. Her cords  _ snapped _ , her arms flashed, and she landed soundlessly with her body low to the floor. She flourished as she straightened. If she had a lightsaber, she could have used that move to flawlessly dismember three battle droids, on her twelve, four, and six. The guests merely took it for granted. They didn’t know how hard she’d practiced to perfect it, the amount of composure, skill, and balance required. They didn’t know how often she’d used it to dismember hostiles in live combat, fighting a war they couldn’t care less about. 

They didn’t know that her dance hadn’t really been a dance—that it had been more of a challenge—that an angry light had finally sparked in her eyes, that she could have killed them with her graceful forms and sharp movements, or bent their minds sideways and captured their will with hers.

Like naïve, comfortable little snobs, they clapped when the music stopped. They smiled when Ahsoka bowed. They were pleased, and entertained, and content to live on like this.

But then she looked up, and by some strange chance, her eyes landed on Rex. 

She didn’t  _ just _ see him. She recognized him. He could make out the shape of his name on her lips, barely registering the subtle surprise in her expression. It was good to realize the collar hadn’t dulled her mind  _ completely _ . She could still think, it seemed. And he was going to restore that ability to its full extent.

Úmanyar was clapping. He slapped his hands together as sloppily as any drunk, and the remote fell to the cushion of his seat.

Admiring the Commander’s sentience could wait.

Rex dove across the couch, evoking startled shouts from the surrounding people, reaching for the control with an open hand. Úmanyar realized his intent a second before the execution, but with all the alcohol in his system, he didn’t have enough time to react. Rex’s fingers closed around the remote. He shot to his feet.

“General!”

The remote went airborne, even as Rex was shoved to the ground by a number of displeased party guests, and nearby security officers. But the Force  _ was _ pretty handy. Among its functions of forming bonds, decrypting security systems, and establishing telepathic communication, it also offered its services in telekinesis, particularly in the management of projectiles—of which, the detonator was now one. So Skywalker—being a Jedi, and therefore very much attuned to the flow of the Force—was easily able to catch the remote as it sailed through the air. He gave a cocky smirk and saluted Rex, then proceeded to ensue the fastest dismantling of control tech that the clone captain had ever seen.

“Thanks, Rex!” He shouted across the room.

And Úmanyar, though slow on the processing, was instantly indignant. “What!” He cried. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Rex shoved his way from the pile of chemically-compromised humanoids and tried to spot his Commander. Had she been freed? Was she alright?

The general leveled Úmanyar with his trademark glare. He stalked across the room, and he yanked his lightsaber out for dramatic effect. Shocked gasps as he ignited it.

“I’m taking my padawan back.”

There, Rex finally found Ahsoka. She had moved away from the cleared space. Her eyes had gone wide. Surprised, and not a little scared, but otherwise unharmed.

“You can’t do that! She’s mine, not yours!”

Rex glared at the spoiled man. “She doesn’t belong to  _ anyone _ .” He growled. Talking back wasn’t productive in the slightest, but  _ someone _ had to say it.  _ Someone _ had to tell him how wrong he was, how wrong all of this was. “Least of all you, some filthy slimebag with only  _ one thing _ on your mind.” Rex was supposed to have a level head. This man was screwing with his commitment.

The snide comments, the disturbing indignance, the snooty, snobbish, egotistical behavior made him want to act out violently. Made him want to prove what grave consequences there were for hurting his Commander. Prove that a life of oppression would never last. He might well have broken face—both figuratively and literally—if he hadn’t been distracted by Ahsoka’s scream. The sound startled him too. All of a sudden, his blood froze over.

Úmanyar’s father was a sore loser, apparently.

As Rex whirled around, he saw the slinky man standing over Ahsoka with an angry sneer. The nerve—as if he had a right to be angry! He pointed a taser at her and ignited the shackles, sending bolts of electricity straight into her shoulders, coursing through her whole body. Turned the entire system into a crackling, sparking mess. Raw surges of energy exploded from the rays and brought Ahsoka to her knees, convulsing, shaking, smoking just a little bit.

“Stop it! STOP IT!”

Level head. Level head.  _ Level head _ . 

But it was too much to take, hearing her scream, seeing her in agony, knowing that this man was behind it—Rex yanked his blaster out before he could stop himself and sent a bolt straight through his chest.

The surge cut off, and Ahsoka crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

“Guards!” Úmanyar gasped. He seemed astounded, as though no one had ever dared challenge him like this before. A new surge of screams began. The party guests started panicking. Scattering.

“Guards, stop them!”

Security officers flooded into the room. Rex ignored them and ran to his Commander, skidding, sliding down on his knees. He reached for her head.

“Commander!  _ Commander Tano _ !”

Her clothes hissed, and her limbs were limp. Angry, bubbling burns cooked the skin on her wrists and ankles. She wasn’t breathing.

Rex scooped his hand beneath her neck and shifted her flat on the floor. “Please, Commander, come on.” But she wasn’t moving at all.

He had  _ not _ come all this way just to see her dance and not wake up.

Behind him, Rex was faintly aware of General Skywalker blazing the hostiles, causing a mess. Shrieking party guests streamed around them. 

Rex felt like screaming too. She  _ had _ to wake up.

So much pent up anger and tension and panic were causing his hands to shake, freezing his body in place. His subconscious told him that he needed to do something—needed to fix this somehow—but it was getting hard to think, and he sat there for a second, simply staring.

She couldn’t… she shouldn’t be…

His Commander wasn’t breathing.

Thank the Force his conditioning kicked in. As Rex’s cognitive capabilities stalled, his instincts took over, and he found his limbs released.  _ Thank the Force _ .

“Please Ahsoka,” 

Rex lowered her head down and folded his hands together. “ _ Come on _ .” He pressed his palm against her breastbone, thrusting down hard, barely able to focus on the ticking in his head. Standard procedure mandated that he remove any clothing from the upper body, but he didn’t have the heart to do that after everything he’d already seen.

_ One, two, three, four, five, six, seven _ .

Blast the slave trade. Blast the whole kriffing thing. No doubt it was argued that not all masters were this bad, but the mere thought of  _ this _ being justified by anyone or anything—that was enough to knock Rex’s head off his shoulders. The next time Skywalker disappeared on one of his secret “freedom crusades”, Rex was coming with. He needed to help. He needed to do  _ something _ .

_ Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty _ .

Before Rex could take hold of his Commander again, her whole body jerked, and a sudden coughing fit wracked her chest.

The noise of conflict died away.

Rex swallowed a cry of relief. 

_ Thank the Force. Thank the Force _ . 

He gently tugged on his Commander’s arms, and pulled her body into the recovery position, keeping a firm hand on her shoulder as she hacked away.

“Easy, easy,” He soothed.

She breathed out a crackly groan.

Kriff, she was breathing. Okay, good. That was good. That was a huge step up. She was going to be okay. She was strong like that.

Some rich filth had dropped a long, fancy robe just a pace to the left. Rex reached over and dragged it close. A bit trampled by the outgoing crowd, but it was functional, and most importantly, opaque. He draped it over Ahsoka’s body.

“It’s alright. You’re alright. We’ve got you.”

“Hmm?” She struggled to lift her head up. “Rexster?”

She was dazed, and displaced, and a little confused, but her eyes were as clear as ever, and Rex wanted to weep at how beautiful they were. He didn’t. That would have been unprofessional.

“It’s good to have you back, Commander.” He said. And he  _ meant _ it. He meant every word, every syllable. He never wanted to lose her again.

A tired smile played on her lips. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Any time, ‘Soka.” He meant that too.

Her eyelids dipped. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Some tiny little seed of warmth took root in Rex’s chest. So many emotions were smashing together in his brain, it was getting increasingly hard not to do something embarrassing—like break down in tears. Well he was relieved, and happy, and still angry and when they got back to the  _ Resolute _ and got his Commander shut up in the medbay, he was going to go find a private place to cry. That or he would need to follow Kix around annoyingly until this was resolved. Both options seemed unbecoming, but Rex was tired of being the responsible, put-together soldier. He’d almost lost his Commander. The twelve-year-old in him was greatly attracted to the idea of a little vulnerability.

“Ahsoka!”

Skywalker rushed over, lightsaber humming, chest pushing in and out with reassuring breaths of air. He dropped to his knees. Worry was written all over his face. It seemed the fight hadn’t done much to relieve him of his stress, because the tension in his limbs was as blatant as ever. Maybe he needed to cry too.

He waved his saber and slashed the shackles away from her, then tugged the cloak more securely over her form. He jostled her shoulder, pierced her with his desperate gaze.

“Ahsoka, are you alright?”

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice, though it seemed to be more of an effort than the first time. Her face was dreamy.

“Master?” She whispered.

Skywalker sucked in a sharp breath.

“ _ Anakin _ .” He hissed.

There, her smile slowly grew, starting at the corners of her mouth, curling down, amused. As much as he pretended otherwise, Rex was incredibly fond of that smile. How wonderful to see it again.

“Anakin then.” She glanced back at Rex. “Skyguy and Rexster.”

“All due respect, Sir, shut up.”

With a cheeky quirk of her lips, she allowed her eyelids to slide shut. Her breathing didn’t stop.


	4. Freedom is a Brand

Kix had a fit. He was positively beside himself when they returned to the base, and he saw the Commander cradled unconscious in Rex’s arms.

He’d had them rushed up to the Resolute in a matter of counts, and then they’d all been herded into the medbay for evaluations. Rex wasn’t injured. Not physically at least. He’d just been exhausted, and strained, and he was entirely grateful when Kix didn’t shoo him away after receiving an all-clear. 

It took a bit longer to treat the Commander’s wounds. She’d been intoxicated, and there were nasty burns—inside and out—that would take a few days to heal completely. But she  _ would _ heal completely. Kix had reassured them.

The general didn’t stick around for hours after hearing the verdict, just long enough to order the chip out of her body. It had been deactivated when they made a scene at the party, and again after they stormed out and blazed the entire control system. (Skywalker claimed that the last effort had been aimed towards aiding their escape, but Rex was pretty sure he’d just wanted to free the rest of the slaves they had seen there).

His voice was low when he explained the device to Kix, who had in turn appeared mortified (“It does  _ what _ ?”).

“Sir, are you sure you want to risk it?” 

Somehow, Rex didn’t think they were referencing the risk of bodily damage—especially not with the way the general’s eyes had darkened.

“Take it out.” He’d growled. “She’s freeborn. My padawan will  _ never _ be a slave.”

“Yes Sir.”

And then he had stormed off, and Rex heard later that the training room had been trashed.

He didn’t worry about it. The worst part was already over, and Kix had the steadiest hands on the ship. Ahsoka was free again. Free to run rampant on the oppressors of the galaxy, free to be her own person, free to dance. A good thing for everyone, really.

Rex had slept in the chair beside her cot for a night cycle. Even though he woke up stiff, and cramped, and achy in too many places, it had been worth it to fall asleep hearing her soft, easy breaths, reassured that she was alive, and she was here.

He would have stayed longer if he could. He would have waited until she was cleared—not that he would ever admit such a thing aloud—but as the Jedi said, “attachment is forbidden”, and he didn’t want to leave anything to implication. It was enough to know that she wouldn’t suffer from her wild encounters over the past few days. Not physically at least. She’d probably need some closure, but no doubt it was something Skywalker could cover. She was his apprentice, after all.

(Part of him wondered if maybe he didn’t need closure, too).

Not long after the  _ Resolute _ left the whole blasted system behind, Rex found himself alone in the training room after his alpha shift, slowly working through the clutter which no one had yet cleaned up. (To the general’s credit, there were no plasma burns that Rex could see). His Commander had been discharged recently, though she was still off-duty until her bandages were entirely gone.

Nothing eventful had happened. Maybe that was why Rex decided on cleaning  _ now _ . He needed to move, and he needed to work. And this needed to be done.

Soft music was filtering in through the speakers. It was a graceful sound, all smooth rhythms and delicate notes. There were no drums. It was actually pretty relaxing. He’d noted once that R2 marked it on his “lakeside” playlist, whatever that meant, and Rex could perfectly imagine sitting by a quiet beach, listening to something just like this. It was a good distraction, if nothing else. He was still wrestling with everything that had happened planetside.

Rex braced his shoulder against a bench press, heaving it upright. He grunted softly.

Skywalker must have been in a real rage. Weights and machines and all other kinds of equipment were scattered about the room. The simple task of righting them all would have been daunting, had the prospect of hours of mindless chore not appealed to Rex’s troubled thoughts. He needed to decompress, and this seemed as good a chance as any. 

The sharp memories still circled through his head. 

_ “You don’t belong to anyone.” _

_ “My master.” _

_ “She’s mine, not yours!” _

Three bar weights clacked as Rex set them back on their hangers.

_ Brilliant lights, glowing crystal nets _ .

Liberty was a luxury in wartime. An army of soldiers bred to die was all the proof in the world. Maybe some people thought they deserved names, or treatment like any autonomous sentient. But there were still those who believed in owning others as property. Two-hundred-thousand purchased units was all the proof in the world.

Rex had never batted an eye before. He knew what he was, what he had been made to do. But when the war was over… when their initial purpose had expired… 

As Rex slid another weight onto the rack, he became aware of a presence, just over his shoulder. He huffed quietly. The day shift was drawing to a close. Maybe some of the boys were popping by, just to see if the trainers were fit for use (as they hadn’t been for the past few days).

But when Rex turned, his eyes found blue, not brown, and far more white on orange than was natural. He raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised.

“Commander.” He acknowledged.

Her mouth quirked. “Ahsoka.” She amended. It was good to see she felt back to normal, for the most part. All her snippy aura had been replenished, and that achingly familiar spark in her eyes was as vibrant as ever. There was no haze, no dreamlike trance, just a stiff slouch against the doorframe, and white lengths of bandages.

“All due respect, Sir, that would be unprofessional.”

She scoffed heartily. “When have we ever cared about that?”

Rex turned away before she could see his smile and clamped his shields up tight. He continued to work away.

For a while, they seemed content like that, simply being present in the quiet atmosphere, with the gentle music drifting down. 

Ahsoka remained near the door, silent, watching, and Rex continued to shift objects back into position. He started a pile on one side of the space, made of broken stuff to pitch later. They could get it replaced the next time they were on Coruscant, and in the meantime, they’d just have to do without.

He could tell by Ahsoka’s posture that she was a little restless. She wanted to help him, obviously, but just as easily as he could read her stance, she too could sense that he was loath to see her lift a finger. She  _ had _ gone into cardiac arrest just a few days ago. Rex didn’t want her overexerting herself. Some of this stuff was heavy.

But he should have figured that Ahsoka would find a way to move, regardless of his silent request.

She left the door behind and wandered into the room. Her strides were a little stiff. Her bandages tugged. But in spite of the mobility complications, she made her way out onto the training mats, and started swaying to the song of the music.

She was dancing again.

The movement was nowhere near the lively acrobatics she’d been doing planetside, but there was a signature grace to her body—maybe in the way she held her limbs, or the way she seemed to flow through the motions like an endless beam of light. It came so naturally to her, and it was so naturally beautiful. Here in the messy training room, with no leering slavers, no sparkling chains, and no bomb next to her heart, it was almost perfect. All she needed now was an audience to really appreciate it. 

Rex knew the boys would get behind the idea, one-hundred percent, but she hadn’t offered, and the last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable, so he wasn’t going to ask.

She seemed perfectly content as she was, anyway.

Her body dipped with the notes, she unfurled at the rhythm. Each captivating form seemed to give her new confidence, spurring longer strides, wider sweeps of her arms, tiny little hops that brought her toes off the mat. 

Every now and then, she’d twist against her healing body, and she’d stumble a bit. But then her head would shake and her feet would move back in place, and she would keep going.

Rex thought it was pretty beautiful. He was happy that the slavers hadn’t seen this dance. This slow, beautiful dance. It was too good for them.  _ She _ was too good for them.

Her eyes had been closed to start, but now they shifted open, and landed on Rex, who must have been staring (when had that happened?). Before he could tear his eyes away and get the kriff back to work, she smiled. Her eyes shone with life. She gestured him towards her.

“Rexster, get over here.”

(Who was he to disobey a direct order?)

He obliged Ahsoka, a small smile on his lips. This sure beat breaking and entering, that was for certain. It beat speeder chases, and holomaps, and crumpled balcony railings. It beat lifeday parties. 

Ahsoka held her hand out to him as he approached, patient, kind, happy. 

“Dance with me, Rexster.”

He raised an eyebrow. As enjoyable as that sounded, he would much rather watch than inevitably step on her feet. Dancing wasn’t a course on Kamino. No doubt the peacekeepers of the galaxy had learned (Rex was an eyewitness to General Kenobi’s ballroom skill), but its soldiers had not. Where was the need?

“I don’t know how, Sir.”

Her hand reached out further and took his own, unbidden, though not unwelcome. She pulled him close.

“That’s okay. It’s not too hard.”

“You make it look easy.”

Her lips stretched wide. Gently, she guided his arm around her waist, then rested her palm on his shoulder and grabbed his other hand. 

This probably went against regulation, being so close, being in a position like this. But Echo wasn’t there to tell them off, so neither of them pulled away.

“You alright, Captain?” Ahsoka teased. She was beaming at him, so dazzling he might have been blinded. How could he be anything but alright when someone looked at him like that? Like he mattered, like he was special?

“Yes Sir.” He smiled back.

“Okay, now just follow my lead.”

Dancing was mostly footwork. At least, this sort of dancing, anyway. Footwork and balance and a good awareness of your partner. This sort of dancing was different from what Ahsoka had done on her own, but this was easy, and peaceful, and really really nice. They swayed back and forth to the music. Nothing fancy. Just stepping, and drifting around the room, slowly trailing the mats like they had all the night to spend.

Maybe this was freedom. Was this what it felt like? Being your own person, able to dance, able to bask in the light of stars? Maybe freedom didn’t have to be all tangible. Maybe it could be weighed in the value assigned by music. By dancers orbiting each other.

It was late into the night shift when they realized the speakers had faded out, but neither of them were tired.

Rex remembered Ahsoka’s head on his chest, turning, as she pretended not to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Thanks a bunch for reading, I hope you liked my story. First sw fic, kind of shaky, took me way longer than it should have ((was supposed to be a one-shot :’))). Please leave comments and kudos if you can spare the time!


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